


Sundown

by setissma



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setissma/pseuds/setissma
Summary: “'We’ll just go on this delightful missing-persons case in the Carpathians,’ they said,” Pansy said. “'It will be the perfect opportunity to continue with our cavalier attitude toward authority and tendency toward reckless behavior,’ they said.”





	Sundown

When Hermione finished climbing down the stairs to the sublevel, she found Pansy leaning against a wall. She looked singularly unimpressed. Harry and Malfoy were in one of the interrogation rooms, but there wasn’t a suspect in with them.     
    
Malfoy was leaning back in one of the chairs with his feet propped on the table, reading a magazine. He looked bored, but Harry was pacing circles around the room.     
    
“What’s the emergency?” she said. Four in the morning was definitely too early for anything other than an actual crisis, but they both looked fine.  
    
“’We’ll just go on this delightful missing-persons case in the Carpathians,’ they said,” Pansy said. “’It will be the perfect opportunity to continue with our cavalier attitude toward authority and tendency toward reckless behavior,’ they said.”     
    
“We can hear you, you know,” Malfoy said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in here checking my pulse and wearing some sort of vaguely revealing medical uniform?”     
    
“Oh my god, do you still have a pulse?” Harry said, faintly.     
    
“I’m not _dead_ ,” Malfoy said, sharply.     
    
“I can’t do anything unless Potter lets me in,” Pansy said.     
    
“Absolutely not,” Harry said. “It’s a terrible idea. We don’t know what might happen.”     
    
“I think we know exactly what’s going to happen, which is absolutely nothing,” Malfoy said. “If I haven’t killed you by now, no one else has anything to worry about.”     
    
“I don’t understand how you’re perfectly fine with all of this,” Harry said.     
    
There was a long pause, where Malfoy glanced up and met Harry’s gaze.     
    
“I’m grateful I walked out of there,” he said, quietly. “I nearly didn’t.”     
    
“I know, I know,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “But –“     
    
“Look,” Malfoy said. “At the moment, my biggest problem is that I’ve got a terrible headache from barely sleeping all week. Could we solve that one first?”     
    
“And you’re sure you’re not feeling particularly… violent?” Harry said, doubtfully.     
    
“I’d kill for something to eat,” Malfoy said, mildly.     
    
“ _Draco_ ,” Harry said.     
    
“Maybe a cheeseburger,” Malfoy said, sounding thoughtful. “Fish and chips?”     
    
“Open the bloody door, Potter,” Pansy said. “It’s more likely to be me ripping his throat out than the other way around.”     
    
“You’re always so charming when you get woken up in the middle of the night,” Malfoy said. “Which was completely unnecessary, for the record. Don’t think I signed off on that. It was entirely Potter’s doing.”  
    
Harry muttered something under his breath and undid the locking spells on the door, pulling it open.     
    
“Hey,” he said, when he saw Hermione. He looked exhausted. “I’m glad you’re here.”     
    
“What’s going on?” Hermione said. Pansy had stepped through and was casting something at Malfoy.     
    
“It’s complicated,” Harry said.     
    
“It’s not that complicated, I’m –“ Malfoy said, then stopped when she stepped into the room.   
    
He leaned back a little further in his chair, deliberately casual, and met her eyes.     
    
“Granger,” he said, slowly, and there was just something in his voice that made her want to get closer, want to –     
    
She took an involuntary step forward, then caught herself when Harry made an exasperated noise.     
    
“Don’t start, Draco,” he said. “I mean it. I’m not putting up with you baiting her.”     
    
Malfoy was still staring at her, his pupils much larger than usual, and he had a tense look she couldn’t remember seeing anywhere other than when they’d worked together in the field.     
    
“Don’t tell me you got yourself drugged again,” she said, when it started to feel like he was never going to look away.     
    
Malfoy blinked a few times, looking as if he was trying to reorient himself.     
    
“Nothing that easy,” he said, with one of his usual overly charming smiles.     
    
“You’re fine apart from the obvious,” Pansy said, putting her wand back up her sleeve. “Thanks for dragging me out of bed for no good reason.”     
    
“Have I mentioned lately that you’re cold and unfeeling?” Malfoy said, with a put-upon sigh.     
“Constantly,” Pansy said.     
    
“Maybe Hermione should take a look,” Harry said.     
    
“I’m sure her expertise in books is infinitely superior to my medical knowledge,” Pansy said. “But why not? It’s not as if the Aurors employ me as their medical consultant for any actual reason.”     
    
“Yes, by all means, let’s get Granger in on it,” Malfoy said. He looked as if he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I suppose he’s not going to shut up until you come over here.”     
    
And again, there was an undercurrent in his voice, something that made her take another step toward him. She stopped short.     
    
“Hang on,” she said. “Smile at me again.”     
    
“What, on command?”   
    
“I could always just pry your mouth open,” Hermione said.     
    
“Be my guest, you won’t find –” Malfoy said, then lifted a hand to his mouth. “Damn, those weren’t there before.”     
    
“Maybe you two should leave,” Harry said.     
    
“I’m still not feeling homicidal,” Malfoy said, sounding annoyed.     
    
“Just hungry?” Hermione said.     
    
“Irritated,” Malfoy said. “And –“ He looked at her again, then cut himself off. “You’re not helping.”     
    
“You’re lucky I’ve got keys to the blood bank,” Pansy said. “And I suppose you don’t want to spend the day down here.”     
    
“Why wouldn’t I?” Malfoy said. “I’ve got two chairs, a very dented up table, and absolutely no windows, what more could anyone possibly want?”     
    
“We can probably find somewhere secure,” Harry said. “There are plenty of offices in the middle of the building –“     
    
“I’m going home,” Malfoy said, firmly.     
    
“You live in a penthouse,” Harry said. “Your entire flat is windows.”     
    
“Granger can come fix them,” Malfoy said.     
    
“You just said I wasn’t helping,” Hermione said. “Make up your mind.”    
    
“I’m not sure I trust my magic yet,” Malfoy said. “And I trust Potter’s transfiguration skills even less.”     
    
“I’m not that bad,” Harry said.     
    
“You really are,” Malfoy said, getting to his feet.     
    
“I don’t think you should be alone with anyone,” Harry said.     
    
“I’ve been alone with you for the past six hours,” Malfoy said. “And I bet Granger’s read at least one book on how to make cocktails with human blood, she’s really my best option.”     
    
“Not exactly,” Hermione said. “But I could pull out a martini glass and transfigure some of those tiny pink umbrellas.”     
    
“See?” Malfoy said.     
    
“That’s not funny,” Harry said.     
    
“Granger can bring you metaphorical take out,” Pansy said. “I’m not putting up with Potter for another half hour.”     
    
“I really think –“ Harry said.     
    
“Brilliant plan,” Malfoy said. “I’m going to go murder the entire night shift before I Apparate home.”   

\-   
    
He knocked on the door when she opened it, looking significantly more tired than he had before.     
    
“Hi,” she said, softly. “How are you holding up?”     
    
“So-so,” he said. “On the downside, I’ve joined the legions of the undead. On the upside, Harry’s no longer here to try to convince me that I’m going to eviscerate all of London.”     
    
“It’s a little ironic how awful he is in a crisis these days,” Hermione agreed.     
    
“Something like that,” Malfoy said, moving to let her in.     
    
“I had an idea,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind seeing Australia at night half the time, I can keep the windows.”     
    
Malfoy suddenly looked relieved. “That’s much better than losing the view completely.”     
    
“Were you just putting on a brave face for Harry?” Hermione said.     
    
“Maybe,” Malfoy said. He glanced at her as she went toward the window. “I meant it when I said I was glad to have gotten out of there.”     
    
“Are we talking about what happened?” Hermione said, going to examine the seams where the windows met the sills.     
    
“Do we ever talk about anything outside of work?”   
    
“Not really,” Hermione said. “But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t.”     
    
“I’m busy trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’ve suddenly got fangs,” Malfoy said, dryly. “Some of the time, anyway.”     
    
“You haven’t eaten,” Hermione said. “It’s not that much of a surprise.”   
    
“They seem to come and go,” Malfoy said.     
    
“You could pretend it’s a very literal Bloody Mary?” she said, running a hand over the glass before she started murmuring enchantments.     
    
“Emphasis on bloody,” Malfoy said, but she heard him rummaging at the counter. Pansy had sent flasks.     
    
“I think you have too many windows,” Hermione said, when she’d finished with half of them.     
    
“I thought this would seem more appealing,” Malfoy said, staring into a coffee cup. “It doesn’t.”     
    
“Sorry,” Hermione said. He didn’t look particularly happy. “I’ll go to the library in the morning, maybe I can find something.”     
    
“You would think the solution’s in a book,” Malfoy said, but he’d tilted the mug up. She watched him swallow, then make a face.     
    
“If I can’t chase that with scotch, I’m going to be exceedingly unhappy,” he said, going to the sideboard.     
    
“It isn’t supposed to be that horrible.” She checked the last pane.     
    
“It’s not,” Malfoy said. “But it was sort of like lukewarm pizza with toppings I hate.”     
    
“Maybe we just haven’t found the right blood type,” Hermione said. “We could experiment -”   
    
“This tastes normal,” Malfoy said, coming over to the window with his scotch glass. He looked relieved. “I might live after all.”     
    
“Are you okay?” Hermione said, as she watched him looking at the skyline.     
    
“Probably not,” Malfoy said. “But I’m pretending to be. Do you want some of this?”     
    
“I really hate scotch,” she said, wryly.     
    
“I knew that,” Malfoy said, turning until he was angled towards her.     
    
“Oh, really,” Hermione said, amused in spite of herself.     
    
“You didn’t want any last time you were over here either.”   
    
“I don’t think I was very interested in drinking the last time I was over here,” Hermione said.  

“I have wine too,” Malfoy said, but he’d glanced down at her mouth.     
    
“I should go home,” Hermione said, gently. “You must be exhausted.”     
    
Malfoy didn’t say anything, lifting the glass to his mouth. He hadn’t looked away.     
    
“Aren’t you?” she pressed, after a minute.     
    
“I don’t want to be alone,” he said, shortly.     
    
“Or I could stay,” Hermione said. She gave in and stepped toward him, reaching to run her fingers through his hair. It only took a moment before he leaned into her touch, and she watched his shoulders start to come down.     
    
“I like that,” he murmured, much lower than she was used to hearing from him, and something had crept back into his voice. He reached, wrapping an arm around her waist to draw her in.     
    
“Really?” He’d never seemed overly fond of casual contact.     
    
“Yes,” Malfoy said. She moved in, so close that their bodies were pressed together, and he kept her there.     
    
“Should we?” she said. “This is never a good idea.”     
    
“I disagree,” Malfoy said, lifting a hand to undo the top button on her blouse. “And I don’t recall you complaining about it last time.” He ran his thumb along her collarbone. “Or the time before that.”     
    
“That still doesn’t make it a good idea,” she said. “We still work together -”    
    
Malfoy turned, backing her up until he nearly had her pinned against the glass. He undid another button.     
    
“I think you like breaking rules with me,” he said.     
    
“No, I don’t,” she said, breath coming a little faster.     
    
Malfoy made a soft noise, closer to a growl than anything, and closed the distance between them.     
    
“All right, I do,” she said, then, without meaning to: “Every time you ask.”     
    
She watched his gaze slide down to the hollow of her throat.     
    
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he murmured, then bent his head. She suddenly felt his nose against the curve of her neck, then his mouth on her skin. “I can _taste_ it.”     
“Malfoy,” she said, tilting her head back to give him more room.     
    
“Have I mentioned,” Malfoy said, against her jaw, “how much I hate it when you call me that?”     
    
“Do you?” Hermione managed, sliding her hands up under his shirt, spread out against his back. He was incredibly warm, which was… unexpected. “You don’t exactly call me Hermione.”     
    
“You haven’t _exactly_ given me a choice in the matter,” Malfoy said. His voice had gone a little cool.     
    
But somehow, he sounded less indifferent than usual. She’d never really been able to read him well, but he was suddenly obvious. And obviously unhappy.     
    
“I can change that,” Hermione said, running her fingers slowly up his spine.     
    
“Say my name,” he said, sliding to his knees. He put a hand on her hip, pressing her back against the cold glass. She shifted, and his gaze went dark.     
    
“Draco,” she murmured, then he pushed her skirt up, kissing the inside of her thigh. She could feel her pulse start to race when he bit, lightly, then licked over it.     
    
“If I asked,” he said, low, “what would you let me do?”     
    
“Anything you want,” she said, sliding her hands back into his hair.     
    
“If I didn’t want you to move,” he said. “Would you hold very, very still?”     
    
“Yes,” Hermione said.     
    
“And if I wanted to have you here,” he said, “just like this…”     
    
“Yes,” Hermione said. She couldn’t think.     
    
“What if,” Draco said, “I wanted you to say my name again?” He was licking over her skin again. “What if I wanted you to make sure the neighbors heard you?”     
    
“I can be as loud as you want,” Hermione said, tightening her grip in his hair to guide him closer. “But I want you. Now.”     
    
“I didn’t say anything about you getting your way.”     
    
“Draco,” she said, slowly. “You can have anything you want. You can do this here, or take me on the sofa, or drag me into the bedroom and tie me up, but I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t quit teasing.”     
    
“Here first,” Draco said, pinning her against the glass again. He pushed her skirt up higher, kissing behind her knee, the curve of her hip –     
    
She suddenly felt him freeze.     
    
“Hermione,” Draco said, drawing back. “Say that again.”     
    
“Draco,” she said, feeling an edge slide into her voice. She had a feeling she could make him do what she wanted, if she just arched her back and pushed into his hands –     
    
“The other part,” he said. “Tie you up?”     
    
“Just pick something,” Hermione said. “ _Now_. Please.”     
    
“That’s off limits,” Draco said, slowly.     
    
“I just said anything,” Hermione said.     
    
“You hate it,” Draco said, thoughtfully. “Even the first time, you told me no, and I said that was fairly kinky for drunken sex after a Christmas party, and you -” 

“Draco.” 

“You said that it reminded you of –“ He stopped, looking up at her. “Tell me what you want.”     
    
“Stop playing games,” Hermione said.     
    
“Humor me.”   
    
“You,” Hermione said. “I need –“     
    
“You want to get off,” Draco said, slowly. “But how, exactly, do you want it to happen?”     
    
“I want you to fuck me here,” she said, “against the window, and…”     
    
“Think about it the entire way through,” he said. “Is fucking you going to be enough?”     
    
“It’s never really been a problem before,” Hermione said, irritated.     
    
“Think about it,” Draco said.     
    
“I want you inside me,” Hermione said. “I want you to pin me and...“ She stopped.     
    
“Bite you,” Draco finished.     
    
“Oh,” Hermione said, thoughtfully.     
    
He got to his feet, but Hermione wrapped a hand around his wrist and kept him close.     
    
“It’s a little strange. But it’s not actually a problem. Unlike Harry, I don’t think you’re going to rip my throat out,” she said. “I trust you.”     
    
“No,” Draco said, firmly, twisting out of her grasp. “I’m not asking you to say yes to this.”     
    
“I’m actually offering. That’s not the same thing as you asking.” 

“You can’t say yes,” Draco said, “because that would require you being able to say no, and I don’t think you can.” 

“I don’t want to say no.” She looked up at him, considering. “Do I need to tell you that I like the whole inadvisable sex thing more often? Were you somehow unclear on that?”   

She didn’t always like the fact that it was _him_ , but he was a lot less terrible than he’d been when they were younger. And she couldn’t complain about the sex. Draco had never struck her as particularly insecure about it, but there was a first time for everything. 

“Don’t,” Draco said. “You need to go.” 

“You don’t have to bite me,” Hermione offered. “I’m happy with just -” 

“As much as I hate to admit it,” he said. “Harry’s right. I couldn’t stop.” 

He looked miserable, but he took another step back when Hermione reached for him again. 

“I know this is a lot,” she said, softly. “But I think you should have another glass of scotch and come fool around with me.” She moved around him, toward the couch. “You could use the distraction.” 

“Now I know something’s wrong,” Draco said, tersely. “We don’t do that. And you’re never this nice.” 

“I’m usually this nice,” Hermione said. “Just not to you.” 

She hadn’t meant to say it, exactly, but it wasn’t untrue. She remembered reading something about lying around vampires, but she was obviously going to need to recheck the reference. 

“You don’t like me enough to fool around with me,” Draco said. She got the feeling he hadn’t meant to say that either, which was a little strange - the honesty wasn’t supposed to be a two-way street. 

“You’ve never given me the chance.” 

“You’ve never wanted one,” Draco said. He turned away from her, looking out at the city. “I’m exhausted, and I want you to go.” 

“It’s not even sex,” Hermione said, a little confused. “This isn’t anything new, Draco.” 

“I can’t tell if you actually want to be with me right now,” Draco said, “or if you just think you do.” 

“I think there’s a decent amount of evidence to support the former,” Hermione said. 

“You don’t like being tied up,” Draco said, still looking away. His voice was cold. “And I don’t like forcing people to do things they wouldn’t be interested in doing under normal circumstances.” 

“Draco -” 

“Please go,” he said. “I’m getting tired of asking nicely.” 

“Should I owl Harry?” she said, finally. 

“I’m fine,” Draco said. 

“You said -” 

“I said I was fine,” Draco said. “So leave.” 

“All right,” Hermione said. “But I’ll go to the library in the morning. First thing.” 

“I’m sure that will be exceedingly useful, as always,” Draco said. 

“Good night, Draco,” Hermione said, finally, and let herself out. 

\- 

The Ministry library, for once, wasn’t particularly helpful. It was familiar enough after two years of doing case research for the Aurors, so she knew exactly where to look, but there wasn’t much to go on. There was no explanation of taste preferences, only two lines in a particularly esoteric tome about the fact that people tended to feel inclined to tell the truth around vampires, and absolutely no mention of sex outside of a particularly explicit series of romance novels that Hermione suspected hadn’t actually involved any research. There was a book that suggested that vampires could lower inhibitions in their prey, but there was nothing about actual compulsion. By the end of the morning, she’d concluded that Draco was slightly stronger than usual, slightly faster than usual, and unlikely to enjoy sunlight, none of which was actually news. There was, at least, a potion that would minimize almost all of the symptoms, but she was going to have to wait for a blood moon to brew it, which meant he’d have to be nocturnal - or at least indoors during the day - for a few months. 

She gathered the most useful books and went upstairs to the fourteenth floor to find Harry and check her office bookshelves. When she opened the door, she discovered that the windows had been entirely blacked out. With a sinking feeling, she turned to look through the glass walls of Harry’s office. Draco was sitting on his desk, absently sucking a blood lolly and paging through a folder. Pansy was at looking at autopsy photographs, and Harry was eating some sort of Chinese take out. 

Harry said something that Hermione couldn’t make out. 

“He clearly lied the entire way through that interrogation,” Draco said. “And that cursed knife is straight from his father’s vault.” 

Pansy held up one of the photos, saying something in return, but Hermione couldn’t hear her either. 

“Are we sure veritaserum isn’t -” Draco said, then stopped mid-sentence, suddenly looking straight at her. 

Hermione dropped the books. She’d crossed the room before she’d even thought about it. 

“Oh, good, Hermione,” Harry said, when she pushed the door further open. “You can weigh in on this.” 

She’d shoved Draco up against his desk before she had a chance to think about that either. 

“You look terrible,” she murmured. There were shadows under his eyes. “Did you even sleep?” 

“No,” Draco said, settling his hands on her hips. “It probably would have helped if I’d been able to stop thinking about you.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have sent me home,” Hermione said. 

“Trust me,” Draco said, meeting her eyes, “I very much regretted it. Or at least how I did it.” 

Harry dropped his chopsticks. 

“It’s all right,” Hermione said. “I’m sorry I pushed.” 

“I’m sorry I was so…” he said, in a tone of voice she hadn’t heard from him before. It was probably what Draco sounded like when he actually felt contrite. 

“Difficult?” she said, with a smile. 

“Difficult,” he agreed. “But I still think it might have been for the best.” 

“You didn’t do anything to me, Draco,” Hermione murmured, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. “I have a book -” She paused, then laughed softly. “Had a book, it’s on the floor.” 

“Really,” Draco said, thoughtfully. She pressed against him.  “And I suppose you expect me to believe this book?” 

“What the _fuck_?” Harry said, faintly. 

“This is certainly an interesting development,” Pansy said. 

“Damn, I have fangs again,” Draco said, then laughed, low. “That only seems to happen when you come around.” 

“Good,” Hermione said, vaguely recognizing the emotion she was feeling as jealousy. “Don’t bite anyone else.” 

“I haven’t wanted to,” Draco said, bending his head. She felt him lick over the pulse point in the hollow of her throat. “Well, possibly Potter, but that was more out of annoyance than...” 

She pulled her braid to the side, exposing her neck, and he suddenly got distracted. 

“Oh my god,” Harry said. “What’s happening? I’m not awake, am I?” 

“Definitely not a nightmare,” Pansy said, thoughtfully. Hermione could see her leaning back in her chair out of the corner of her eye, but it somehow didn’t matter. 

“What did you do to her, Malfoy?” Harry demanded. 

“Nothing,” Draco said, a little absently. He very clearly wasn’t paying much attention. “Apparently, Hermione has a book that says so.” 

“Trade places with me,” she said. “I can’t get you any closer than this, and I want -” 

“Oh,” Draco said. “There’s an idea.” His smile was a little self-satisfied. “We should absolutely defile Potter’s desk, it will completely ruin his afternoon.” 

“Are you doing something about this before they actually end up having sex in front of thirty people or am I?” Pansy said. 

“That’s my _desk_ ,” Harry said, sounding horrified. 

“Right,” Pansy said. “Hey, Draco.” 

“What?” Draco said. 

“Might want to catch her,” Pansy said. “ _Stupefy_.” 

\- 

When she came to, she was on the couch in Pansy’s office. Pansy had her feet up on her desk and was drinking something that looked suspiciously like whiskey. 

“Oh my god,” she managed. “Did we really...” 

“Oh yes,” Pansy said, without looking up. “You really.” 

“On a scale of one to ten,” Hermione said, slowly, rubbing a hand over her face, “how mad is he?” 

“Around two thousand,” Pansy said. “Although I’d venture to say that about fifteen hundred of that is at himself and four hundred and ninety-nine points are with me for stunning you. You can have one point for not staying away from your office when you didn’t know he’d be in.” 

“I think the stunning spell might have been sort of… necessary,” Hermione said, feeling her face heat. 

“Funny, he didn’t see it that way,” Pansy said. “I thought he was going to kill me. It was fascinating, I’m not sure I’ve seen him that angry in years.” 

“You just stunned me, it wasn’t exactly Cruciatus.” 

“Exactly,” Pansy said. 

“I think there might be something going on,” Hermione said. “I didn’t mean to do any of that.” 

“Shockingly, I gathered,” Pansy said. “Is that new?” 

“Is what new?” 

Pansy raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” Hermione admitted, finally. 

“How long?” 

“Since last Christmas.” 

“And here I thought he was terrible at secrets,” Pansy said. “Bravo, Malfoy.” 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said, quickly. 

“It always means something,” Pansy said. “You just don’t know what.” 

“Do you…” Hermione said, suddenly feeling awkward. “I mean, feel that way? About him?” 

“I find it vaguely charming that you think I’d tell you even if I did,” Pansy said. She suddenly looked amused. “But no. Most assuredly not.” 

“I think -” Hermione said. “I need to see him.” 

“Of course you do,” Pansy said. “But that’s an utterly terrible idea. Unless you’d like to give Potter an aneurysm.” She considered. “Actually, never mind, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“I’m worried Draco’s beating himself up over it again.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She hadn’t slept either. 

“Again?” Pansy said. 

“He threw me out over it last night,” Hermione said, softly. “He thinks I can’t decide what I want on my own.” 

“Given this morning’s evidence, I’m siding with him,” Pansy said. 

“Are you telling me where he is or aren’t you?” 

“I don’t know,” Pansy said. “Are you telling me you don’t know exactly where he is?” 

“He’s not enough of an idiot to have stayed in Harry’s office,” Hermione said. “But I think he’s still on this floor. I could find him.”

Pansy put her glass down. “I suppose I’d better take you before you take yourself,” she said. “Someone’s got to supervise you two, and Potter’s useless.”

Harry and Draco were in one of the travel offices somewhere near the Improper Use of Magic wing.

“I thought we agreed letting them within a hundred yards of each other was a terrible idea,” Harry protested, when Pansy pushed open the door and he saw Hermione behind her.

“Hermione,” Draco said. He started to move towards her, then backed up, grabbing the edge of the desk until his knuckles went white. “You ought to go.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Let’s give them a minute,” Pansy said, pointedly, holding the door open for Harry. “You two, don’t try anything, I’m right outside.”

“That made so much difference last time,” Harry muttered. He came over to her. “Are you okay? I wanted to bring you down here, but Draco asked Pansy to stay with you.”

“Asked is such a nice way of putting it,” Pansy said. “More like threatened to kill me for endangering your life.”

“That might have been a slight overreaction,” Draco admitted.

“Are you okay?” Harry repeated. He looked worried. “I don’t like this.”

“Yes, because she and I are having such a marvelous time,” Draco said.

“I’m okay,” Hermione said. “I promise. I just need to talk to Draco.”

“I’ll be right there,” Harry said.

Pansy shut the door behind them once they’d both stepped into the hall, and Draco turned toward her.

“I apologize for…” Draco trailed off. “All of that. I wasn’t trying to…” 

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure she’d even seen him at a loss for words. 

“Let the entire department know we’ve been sleeping together?” Hermione said, lightly. 

“Definitely not,” Draco said, looking embarrassed. “But it’s not - please don’t think I wouldn’t want anyone to know, I… I’m sorry if I...” 

Hermione stepped around the desk he’d put between them and pressed a finger against his mouth. 

“You’re only allowed to talk if you stop apologizing.” 

Draco started to say something, then stopped, hesitantly taking her face in his hands. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

“I need you to believe that I’ve never had any desire to hurt you,” Draco said. 

“I get it,” Hermione said. “It’s just sex, not a relationship, you’re a private person, and Harry makes things complicated.” 

“You’re a little out of my league, Granger,” Draco said, with a rueful smile. “And far more gracious than I’d be in your shoes.” 

“I did sort of pin you to Harry’s desk,” Hermione pointed out. 

“You didn’t get us into this by working idiotic missing persons cases without enough back up,” Draco said. “You’re not the one who doesn’t seem to have any self-control when it comes to putting a stop to… whatever this is.” 

“And you,” Hermione observed, “have absolutely no idea how to deal with being out of control.” 

“I don’t typically make a habit out of letting myself get carried away, no,” Draco said, tersely. 

“Maybe this has never occurred to you,” Hermione said, sliding a hand into his back pocket. “But I’m going to let you in on a secret.” 

“What’s that?” Draco said. He moved his hands back to bury them her hair. 

“People would probably like you better if you were a little less perfect,” Hermione murmured, drawing him down for a kiss. He ducked out of it at the last minute. 

“You’re funny,” Draco said. “You think I know how to be anything else.” 

“You should try being less buttoned up sometime,” Hermione said. “Like now. Now could be good.” 

Draco laughed. “I believe you agreed to stay on the other side of the room.” 

“I lied,” Hermione said. “Unlike you, I’m perfectly okay with letting myself be human.” 

“You might have to cover that for a while,” Draco said. “Seeing as how I’m currently not.” 

“You argue too much,” Hermione said, leaning in again. 

“Pot, kettle,” Draco said, but he’d settled a hand against the small of her back to guide her closer. He finally kissed her. 

It took a few minutes for him to relax into it, but just when she was starting to think she might be able to talk him into more, she heard the door. 

“You know,” Pansy said, “when you’re supposed to be talking and it suddenly goes silent, it’s very suspicious. I’m stunning you this time if you don’t get away from her, she seems less likely to rip my throat out.” 

“ _Damn_ it,” Draco said, backing away from her. He straightening his collar, looking unhappy. “I’m sorry, Hermione, I -” 

“I think that was all me this time,” Hermione said, ruefully. 

“I’m getting worse at saying no,” Draco said. “And I profoundly don’t want to do this to you.” 

“I know,” Hermione said, softly. “Do you want me to give you some space?” 

“Please,” Draco said. 

“I’ll do some more research,” Hermione said. “Maybe I can figure this out. Hogwarts might have something in the library.” 

“At the very least, we have your continued faith in libraries,” Draco said. 

She went back over to him, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said. “Get some sleep. You can owl me if you think of something.” 

“You never know,” Draco said, with a small smile. “I could find myself desperately in need of a book.” 

Pansy emerged a moment later, starting down the hall. She looked expectantly behind her when Hermione didn’t immediately follow. 

“Potter went back to his office to avoid you snogging, but he’s going to go over to Draco’s flat,” Pansy said, which explained why Harry had disappeared. 

“If the entire situation weren’t terrible, I’d be kind of enjoying ruining his month,” Hermione said, managing a smile. “Consolation prize?” 

“Any scenario that makes Potter miserable has at least some redeeming qualities,” Pansy agreed. She looked at Hermione for a long moment. “There was absolutely no soundproofing on that door. You’re being fairly nice to him.” 

“He’s always so stupidly hard on himself,” Hermione said. “But he’s at least being more open about the fact that he’s miserable.” 

“Is he?” Pansy said. “Because I can tell when he’s putting on an act, but you and Potter have never caught on to it. And he’s not faking it any less than he usually does. He’s admitting to it because you keep calling him on it, but that doesn’t mean he’s more obvious.” 

“He’s more…” Hermione said, pausing at the top of a staircase. “It’s been written all over his face.” 

“I don’t think it’s just the sex,” Pansy said. “There’s some sort of… empathy component. Which strikes me as a little funny if he’s purportedly trying to lure you in so he can bite you.” She pulled out a set of keys at the bottom of the stairs, unlocking her office door as she murmured a spell. “I think I’d better help.” 

“You’ve been helping,” Hermione pointed out. 

“You order take out,” Pansy said. “I’m going to request every book and journal article on vampirism from the Mungo’s archives.” 

“You’d do that?” Hermione said. “It’s a lot to go through.”

“One, Draco’s my family,” Pansy said. “Two, you really ought to quit assuming you’ve got the market cornered on academic research. It’s both condescending and limiting.” She snorted, holding the door open. “The two of you are perfect for each other, the only person worse at asking for help than Draco is you.”

“You might have a point,” Hermione said, feeling sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

“I definitely have a point,” Pansy said. “I’ll take the green curry with shrimp, as hot as they’ll make it. Apology only accepted if you can argue them into actually making it spicy.”

Four hours later, Hermione was seriously starting to doubt her affection for books.

“This one is about seventy percent in latin,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “And resistant to translation spells.”

“Magical property differences of garlic and onions,” Pansy said, snapping her fingers. The scroll disappeared, presumably back to the archives. “That’s ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back.”

“This is ridiculous,” Hermione said. “We can’t be the only people who have ever experienced this.”

“I’d suggest that he’s just that attractive,” Pansy said, “but no one else seems to be falling over him.”

“You’re definitely not.”

“I’m a little immune to his charms at this point,” Pansy said. “And he’s not really my type.”

“I’m starting to wonder if Draco and I could manage to be in the same room long enough to cast a search spell together,” Hermione said, with a sigh. “It’d take a lot to do the entire library, but the two of us would probably be able to manage it.”

“Hold on,” Pansy said, slowly. “I’ve seen you cast together before.”

“It’s easier,” Hermione said. “We do it all the time.” She laughed. “He claims he can’t share with Harry, I think he just doesn’t want to.”

“Does he take your magic or do you take his?”

“He takes mine, I think,” Hermione said, reaching for another book. “He’s a much better technical caster than I am.” She made a face. “I usually have a hard time admitting that, I think the whole honesty thing might just pertain to the general subject of Draco.”

“You do realize that’s fairly dark magic,” Pansy said. “As in, ‘get you a life sentence in Azkaban if you don’t get the other person’s consent’ dark magic.”

“Which is why he always asks,” Hermione said. “Why are we arguing about this, exactly?”

“Because I’m not sure you understand the magic, and Draco’s an idiot,” Pansy said. She got up, going to her bookshelf, and pressed a hand to a book. Another shelf appeared.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got books in here we haven’t looked through yet,” Hermione said. “I thought we were making a dent in it.”

“They aren’t books on vampires,” Pansy said, pulling out a book that looked very old and -

“Please tell me that’s bound in leather,” Hermione said.

“Of course not, it’s human skin,” Pansy said, absently. “And don’t touch anything on this shelf, it’ll probably kill you. Nothing from my private collection likes muggleborns.”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you have an entire shelf of horrifying and racist books?”

“Horrifying, racist, and useful,” Pansy said, going back to her desk. “You two started that years ago, didn’t you?”

“When I was still doing field work,” Hermione said. She felt exhausted. “Harry was in France. Draco and I got into it with some Death Eaters, we needed a better shield spell. He did ask. About five times.”

“I really enjoy when he decides the ends justify the means and then forgets that the means weren’t a good idea to begin with,” Pansy said. She closed the book. “You’ve got very similar magic, apparently. He can’t do that with Harry or me. It’s like magical blood types.”

“It would be great if they put that in books that weren’t only accessible to purebloods,” Hermione said. She was starting to feel irritable.

“Every time you do it, it links your magic a little more,” Pansy said. “That’s why it’s dark magic. You’ve sewn your magic together. If one of you wanted to control the other, it would be extraordinarily easy. Imperius wouldn’t take any work.”

“Also a thing they ought to put in regular books,” Hermione said, fighting the urge to put her head down on the desk. “Did he know?”

“I doubt it,” Pansy said. “Magical theory isn’t exactly his forte. Although he could probably have, I don’t know, done some sort of research before doing it hundreds of times. And you could have asked someone better at Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Brilliant.” She rubbed her eyes again. There was definitely a headache starting to build somewhere in the vicinity of her temples.

“We might be able to undo it,” Pansy said. “But it’s going to be hell.”

“I think it’s all right, unless he wants to,” Hermione said. “I don’t always like him, but I do trust him.”

“The connection’s easy,” Pansy said. “Which is how you keep pulling each other in. You were probably doing it anyway. The whole vampire allure thing has just dialed it up to eleven.”

“Damn,” Hermione said, finally giving in and burying her head in her hands. “Now he’s going to think that’s why I slept with him in the first place.”

“Is it?” Pansy said.

“No,” Hermione said. She swallowed against a sudden wave of nausea. “Not to duck out of the conversation, but I think I might need to go home.”

“You’re starting to look awful,” Pansy agreed. “I can probably prop you up with potions for the evening, at least.”

“Please,” Hermione said. “Should I tell him? We sort of got ourselves into this one.”

“I’ll go over. He’s liable to be…”

“Unhappy?” Hermione supplied.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Pansy said. “Come on, I’ve got to go raid the pharmacy. I don’t keep anything strong enough here.”

-

Hermione had finally gotten home and was utterly failing to read the book in front of her when she heard a tap on the window. Draco’s enormous grey owl was perched on the ledge. When she went to open it, the owl dropped a scroll, gave Hermione a fairly withering look, and took off again before she could say anything at all. 

“Malfoys,” she said, breaking the seal, but the scroll was blank. It had a faintly shimmering surface, though, and when she tilted it in the light, she could see the faintest hint of something underneath it. 

Hermione took it to her desk, pulling out an enchanted calligraphy pen, then very carefully let a single drop of ink fall. The surface absorbed it. A moment later, words appeared: 

_**Pansy won’t leave. She’s being insufferable**_ , it read, in Draco’s perfect script. The text disappeared after a moment. 

_I’m glad you aren’t alone_ , she wrote. _But are you really using dark magic to avoid waiting for a return owl?_

_**It was expedient**_. 

_Of course. How are you?_

Hermione waited, but the parchment stayed stubbornly blank. She finally gave up and went back to her book, but half an hour later, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. 

_**I’ve been better.**_

Then, a moment later: 

_**I feel guilty. And I think it could be possible that I might miss having you around.**_

_That’s an incredibly unambiguous sentence, really. And it took two._

It took another five minutes for Draco to write back. 

_**Fine. I miss you, Granger.**_

_Me too_ , Hermione wrote, before she could talk herself out of it. 

_**I know you think this is unnecessary.**_

_I do._ She thought about stopping there, but it seemed unfair. _But I can understand why you feel the way you do._

_**Can you?**_

_I’m not seventeen anymore. But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop being afraid of what I was capable of doing when I was absolutely certain I was in the right._

_**I’m still capable of things I hate. You can never forget how to cast Unforgivables.**_

_No, but you can make the choice not to use them._

There was a long enough silence that Hermione considered going back to her book. 

_**The whole thing feels like Imperius**_ , Draco wrote. _**I don’t want that for you.**_

Hermione considered something she hadn’t thought all the way through. 

_And I’m not the only one who can’t say no._

_**No. But I’m not sure I wanted to in the first place.**_

_And I did?_

_**I can never tell, with you.**_

_You could try asking sometime._

There was another extended pause.

**_Aren’t you furious with me?_ **

_Are you? With me?_

**_I suggested this. And kept suggesting it._ **

_And I kept saying yes. How much does it matter to you?_

**_I can’t tell if you meant to say yes to anything at all._ **

_Of course I did._

**_How can you be sure?_ **

_Why did you kiss me at that Christmas party?_

**_You looked exceptionally good in that dress. And Harry got drunk and told five of the worst jokes I’d ever heard. You laughed so hard you cried, and I just thought..._ **

_You thought?_

**_I thought, ‘I want her.’_ **

_Are you sure? That you wanted me for me?_

**_Completely._ **

_I was curious about what you’d be like in bed. You’re a little bit of a perfectionist. Also, there were at least three or four glasses of mulled wine involved in that decision._

**_You slept with me just because you were drunk and curious? Granger, that’s a terrible reason. You could be curious about what your tax accountant was like in bed._ **

_My point is, I’m sure too._

**_At least there’s that._ **

_I’m not sorry we did any of it._

**_No?_ **

_I thought you knew that._

**_You’re significantly harder to read than you seem to think you are._ **

_I should probably try harder not to keep everything to myself._ She added something, quickly, before she could talk herself out of it. _But I’d let you know me if you wanted to._

She was a little irritated when the page remained stubbornly blank, but Pansy was there, and - that wasn’t worth dwelling on. Hermione finally fed Crookshanks and ran a bath, although, on impulse, she cast a waterproofing charm on the scroll and took it with her. 

_**Favorite Quidditch team?**_ it read, when she checked it again after she’d climbed in and used a charm to prop her book on the edge of the tub. 

_Whatever Harry likes._

_**And what does Harry like, exactly?**_

_I think it’s some kind of bird._

_**The Montrose Magpies, Granger.**_

_I’m going to tell him you knew that._

_**I’d prefer it if you didn’t.**_

_Too late._

_**Favorite book?**_

_You can’t possibly expect me to pick just one._

_**Favorite book this week? Today? In the last five minutes? You’re reading at least three at this very moment, aren’t you?**_

Draco could be funny when he was drunk, on the rare occasions that he stuck around after they’d finished, or with Harry, but it hadn’t occurred to her that he might actually let her see his sense of humor directly. She ducked under, laughing, and when she came up, there was a different sentence: 

_**Are you dripping on the magical parchment, Granger? Because there’s rather a lot of water on my end.**_

_If you hadn’t taken so long to respond, I wouldn’t have ended up in the bath._

_**I was considering asking what you’re wearing, but now you’ve stymied my efforts to figure out your taste in clothing.**_

_Sorry to have ruined that for you._

**_I suppose I’ll have to live with it. Although it’s hardly my fault I had to spend half an hour trying to convince Pansy that she didn’t need to spend the night._**

_It’s my turn to ask._

**_If you must. Although I’d be markedly more willing to play twenty questions if you stayed naked._**

_I wasn’t planning on getting out anytime soon._

**_Well? Are you asking something or not?_**

_Never Have I Ever?_

**_…what are we, fourteen?_**

_You’re the one who’s not interested in adult activities in the same flat._

**_…been in Gryffindor. Are we drinking?_**

_You claim to still like scotch._

She summoned a glass and a bottle of wine, since it felt vaguely like cheating to avoid actually following through, even if Draco wouldn’t know.

**_Thus far the only less than terrible thing about being undead. Although I do trip over my nightstand less with the night vision._**

_I’m supposed to believe you’ve ever tripped over something?_

**_Shockingly, Granger, I am in fact human. And Pansy keeps moving things around in my bedroom._**

_Does she._

**_She enjoys rearranging furniture._**

_Never have I ever slept with Pansy Parkinson._

**_Jealousy doesn’t become you._**

_Well?_

**_I’m drinking. But, in the interest of making you happy, never have I ever had sex with Pansy in the last fifteen years. And I’m not her type these days._**

Hermione was a little surprised to discover that she was relieved.

_I definitely haven’t done that either. You drink._

**_When I’m exceedingly drunk, you only have yourself and your irrational jealousy to blame._**

_It’s your own fault for getting yourself turned into a vampire._

**_Never have I ever been jealous of myself and other women prior to becoming a vampire._**

_That’s not even logical sentence construction. It’s not possible to be jealous of yourself. I’m not jealous of myself and other women._

**_Allow me to amend: never have I ever been jealous of Draco Malfoy and other women._**

_That’s cheating._

**_Are you drinking or not?_**

_Possibly. Probably._

That was also a little bit of a revelation, but she’d really never liked any of the women Draco had brought around the office, although none of them had ever shown up more than once. 

**_Really?_**

_You’ve made your point, Malfoy._

**_I was fishing, actually. I didn’t expect that to be a yes._**

**_...and apparently the compulsive honesty also occurs when writing to you._**

_How many glasses of scotch have you had tonight, exactly?_

**_~~Three~~ four._/**

_Or it’s the fourth glass of scotch._

**_This game is far less entertaining than anticipated._**

Something occurred to her.

_…what did you mean when you said you weren’t Pansy’s type? She said the same thing._

**_She’s not interested in me._**

_We both said that up until about fifteen minutes before we got drunk and slept together._

**_Let’s put it this way: she’s also not interested in Potter. Or Zabini. If she’s carrying a torch for someone in the office, it’s more likely to be you than me._ **

_Oh god._

Hermione sank down into the water, since Slytherins were, apparently, exactly as terrible as she’d always suspected.

**_I strongly suspect she’s failed to tell you in the last twelve hours because she finds your jealous streak amusing._ **

_I might need to apologize. No, I definitely need to apologize. I might have had enough wine to send apology flowers._

_**She says she likes roses. She’s also laughing herself sick.** _

_You said she left!_

**_I said I spent half an hour trying to get her to leave. I didn’t say I was successful._ **

_Please don’t tell me she’s been reading over your shoulder all evening._

**_Hardly. But I did ask if I could tell you._ **

_Roses it is. In the morning._

**_She was definitely joking._ **

_I’m definitely not. But no one should expect anything from me tonight._

**_You should go to bed, Hermione._ **

_Probably. It’s getting late._

**_Thank you for… this._ **

_Any time. Will this spell last until tomorrow?_

**_Probably not. But I could owl you in the morning._ **

_I’d like that._

**_I would too. Goodnight, Hermione._ **

It was, at least, far easier to get to sleep than she’d thought it would be.

When she woke up the next morning, Draco’s owl had opened the latch on her window and was sitting on one of her kitchen chairs, having a staring contest with Crookshanks. Draco had, apparently, decided that a journal was a better thing to enchant than another scroll.

_Really?_ she wrote. _Are you actually joking about horcruxes?_

**_You should really appreciate my dark sense of humor, although it was actually the only thing in my office. Pansy locked me in since Harry wasn’t certain you were coming in. Although you should really check the last page._ **

There was a basilisk sticker, which hissed at her when she opened the back of the journal.

_I have no words._

**_Corner’s children left them in the break room. I also have a lethifold and a sphinx._ **

_Someone actually made a lethifold sticker?_

**_It’s slithering around my desk and trying to grab my pens. I might sneak it into Harry’s filing cabinets to wreak havoc while he’s in meetings._ **

_I’ll work from home. You know, so you don’t have to stay locked in your office._

**_Probably for the best, since I already broke the spell five minutes ago. I ran out of tea. It seemed worth the risk._ **

Hermione tried not to laugh.

_What are you working on?_

_**Cursed china sets. I can’t possibly express my utter delight at catching this one.** _

_Sounds fun._

**_I think it might be bone china. I’m also not entirely convinced they were using cow bone, if you catch my drift._ **

_What is it with Slytherins and the sickening dark objects?_

**_Purebloods are always an incredibly good time, Granger, haven’t you picked up on that by now?_ **

_Let me guess, I’d be killed if I tried to eat off of it?_

**_Probably. There’s a thought, actually… any chance you borrowed my copy of_ Magical Transference and The Statute of Secrecy _?_**

Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that half of Draco’s office bookshelf was on her kitchen table, although most of hers was on a spare desk in his office, so it mostly balanced out.

_I think I’ve got it here somewhere._

**_Can you check chapter four? I think there’s a passage in there on blood curses and jewelry._ **

_You’re thinking the same concept?_

**_There ought to be something on ivory..._ **

Hermione spent the rest of the morning researching cursed objects, with colorful commentary from Draco. It was a little bit of a relief to be able to work together without thinking about any of the rest of it, and talking to him - even from across the city- seemed to help with the nagging headache.

He was… funny and significantly more charming than usual, and she got the impression he was actually dropping a few of his carefully constructed walls. It made it harder to stay away, and she had a feeling that the impulse was only going to get worse. Draco finished one case and went to work on something involving Gringotts fraud that she couldn’t do much with, so she went back to the stack of books she’d taken home from Pansy’s office.

That evening, Draco answered the door on the third knock.     
    
“Pansy, you can really quit checking –“ he said, yanking it open.     
    
“I’m tired of writing,” Hermione said, putting her foot in the door so he couldn’t slam it closed again. “Please.”   
    
“I shouldn’t let you in.” He looked exhausted and pale, and the urge to touch him was overwhelming.     
    
“But you will,” Hermione said, “because you’re going to have to trust me at some point.”   
    
He looked at her for a long minute, then finally held open the door. She didn’t bother pretending to be polite.     
    
“Being utterly intractable is supposed to be a Gryffindor trait,” she said, going to wrap her arms around him before she cupped his face in her hands, pressing her forehead against his.     
    
He looked startled for a moment, but then he slowly put his arms around her and pulled her closer.     
    
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.     
    
“I’m going to stay,” Hermione said, softly. “And you’re not going to argue with me about it, Draco.”     
    
Draco closed his eyes. “I don’t think I can. I just want to be around you.”     
    
“I might have a solution.”   
    
“You have to quit offering,” Draco said. “Because I’m getting worse at saying no, and I’ll hate myself.”     
    
“You don’t have to bite me.”   
    
“There’s absolutely no way I can sleep with you, either,” Draco said. “I don’t have the self-control. We’ve been over this.”     
    
“Quit imagining worst case scenarios and go find me a glass.” 

He let go, looking as if he didn’t want to, and went to the side bar. “I hate this.” 

“I know,” she said. “But I don’t think we’re going to be able to fight it forever.” 

“No,” Draco said, quietly. “I hate that too. What am I getting you? Wine?” He managed a smile. “I know your feelings on scotch.” 

“Just the glass.” 

“The glass?” Draco said. 

“I’m good at solving problems,” she said, smiling back. “Let’s see if I can solve this one.” 

“I like that about you,” Draco said, then: “I like a lot of things about you.” 

“Is the involuntary honesty getting the better of you?” 

“Let’s call that one voluntary honesty,” Draco said, quietly. 

“Hold this,” she said, stepping closer to him. She’d thought about making him stay on the other side of the room, but it seemed like a better idea to keep him as part of the equation. “You’re going to cut me, I’m going to bleed into that glass, you’ll drink it, and we’ll see if it makes the whole thing easier.” 

“Hermione –“ Draco said. 

“We’re not having sex,” she pointed out. “You’re not biting me.” 

“It’s still –“ 

“I’m okay with it,” she said, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. “I think you could be okay with it too, if you wanted.” 

“I don’t know,” Draco said. “You wouldn’t be offering this if there weren’t magic involved.” 

“I’d have offered at the beginning if there hadn’t been any blood at the hospital,” Hermione said. “And I’m willing to bet Harry and Pansy would do this too.” 

“I don’t have to bet,” Draco admitted. “They’ve both offered. And not with a cutting spell.” 

“I can’t stay across London from you forever,” she said, leaning in to nudge her nose against his. “And maybe more to the point, I don’t want to.” 

“Oh,” Draco said, looking startled again. 

“I think I might like a lot of things about you too,” she said, holding out her wrist. “And I’ve meant it every time I’ve said I trust you.” 

“That was your first mistake,” Draco murmured, but he drew his wand. “You’re sure?” 

“Very,” Hermione said. 

She felt her wrist go numb when Draco murmured a spell, then he shifted the glass. He glanced down, and she felt the sudden pull of attraction between them. Draco’s breath picked up. 

“You can quit trying to lure me in,” Hermione said, laughing softly. “Take my magic if you want, I’ll let you.” 

“Mm,” Draco said, and then kissed her. It wasn’t quite as desperate as she’d thought it would be, but he was very thorough. By the time he drew back, she was glad he was holding her up. 

“I’m not saying this was a bad idea,” Draco said, dryly, “but it’s just making me want the alternative even more.”

“Welcome to my week,” Hermione said, nudging him. “Cast something.”

“Are you sure?” Draco said, eyes dark. “We should probably stop making that worse.”

Hermione glanced down, then murmured a healing spell at her wrist to stop the blood flow. “Are you fighting me every step of the way because you hate the idea of being tied to me, or because you think I hate the idea of being tied to you?”

“The latter,” Draco said. He looked at the glass. “I’m not a particularly good person, Hermione. For you, in general…”

“Is there anything I should know about you that I don’t?” Hermione said. “Because I know your history, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“I’m fairly good at the dark arts,” Draco said. “And by fairly good, if I’m being completely honest, I mean exceptional.”

“As far as I can tell,” Hermione said, “you use all that supposedly dark magic to put murderers in Azkaban and to avoid sending me owls. Do you do anything with it that you’d want to hide from me? Or Harry?”

“No,” Draco said. He swallowed. “But now I want something from you, and I can’t seem to stop myself. I don’t know what I might do to get it. That scares me.”

“I know,” Hermione said, winding her arms around his neck. “But I had this brilliant plan that involved you drinking that and then taking me to bed.” She looked up at him. “It’s what I want. You might have to listen to me about that at some point.”

“All of this scares me,” Draco said, tightly.

“Luckily for you,” Hermione said, “I’m in it with you. And I’m a Gryffindor.” She smiled. “We’re pretty good at bravery.”

“You’re good at idiocy, you mean,” Draco said, but he sounded almost fond.

“I’m not the only one,” Hermione said. “Drink that or I’m pouring it down the sink.”

“I don’t think that would end particularly well,” Draco said. “I don’t want to tell you what it’s taking to have this conversation while holding this.”

Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair. “Draco,” she said, softly.

“Right,” he said, and she felt the moment when his magic started to reach for hers as he murmured a spell to start the fire. It was familiar, something they’d done so many times before, and she was a little relieved that the thing they’d built between them wasn’t gone. But Draco didn’t break the link as quickly as he usually did, and when he lifted the glass to his mouth, she felt the sudden jerk of his magic against hers, dizzyingly intense.

“I would just like to note for the record that this would be so much better if we were having sex right now,” she managed, breathlessly.

“I completely agree,” Draco said. He’d leaned back, but he hooked a thumb in her belt loop to yank her in against him. “I want to -”

“God, please,” she said, arching closer.

Draco laughed, tossing the rest of the glass back, and it felt a little like a shockwave. She felt him go very still against her, breathing hard, and it was good, but there was very clearly _more_ , and she couldn’t get there.

“I think that might be better than sex,” Draco said, against her neck. He looked significantly more satisfied than she felt.

“You don’t know,” Hermione said. “You haven’t tried mixing the two yet.”

“Emphasis on yet,” Draco murmured, nipping the curve of her jaw.

“This thing where you won’t bite me is about to become a serious problem,” she said.

“Didn’t quite do it for you?” Draco said. He sounded almost amused. “I could probably do something about that.”

“Damn,” Hermione said, after a minute, forcing herself to put distance between them. “No, I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You’re not,” Draco said, meeting her eyes. “Is that pull still there for you? Because it’s not for me.”

Hermione could still feel his magic, and she definitely wanted more of him than she was currently getting, but she realized that something had shifted. She didn’t particularly want to walk out the front door, but the prospect didn’t feel utterly impossible. And the frustration was only a little worse than it usually was when Draco was winding her up.

“No,” she said, slowly. “There’s still something, but it’s not the same.”

“That was there before,” Draco pointed out. “We just weren’t paying any attention to it.”

“Please tell me this means you’ll take yes for an answer,” Hermione said.

“I might need fifteen minutes,” Draco said, a little ruefully. “But then I’m very willing to do anything you’d like.”

“Just so we’re clear, this is me saying yes to you biting me,” Hermione said. “And you fucking me even when we start trying to drag each other in again.”

“This is me saying yes too,” Draco said. He had an arm around her waist again, and he slid his hand up, tilting her face so he could meet her eyes.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, softly. “For trusting me enough to try this.”

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” Draco said, quietly. He was watching her. 

“Me either,” Hermione said. “But I like talking to you. And I like sleeping with you.” 

“I never realized…” Draco started, then stopped. “We spend more time together than I thought.” He managed a wry smile. “I thought it was consequence of the fact that we both spend an excessive amount of time and energy trying to keep Harry out of trouble, but maybe I was just telling myself that.” 

“It does take a lot of effort,” Hermione said, laughing softly. “But we do work together a lot for two people who purportedly don’t like one another much.”

“You told me I should get to know you,” Draco said. “Only I think I already do.” 

“You do?” Hermione said. 

“You have a green jumper you only wear when you’re having a terrible day,” Draco said. “You take exactly one and a half packets of creamer in your tea. And if I’m drawing a conclusion based on the number of times you’ve read it, your favorite book is _The Expansive World of Magical Theory_.” 

“I think it might be _Sense and Sensibility_ , actually,” Hermione said. “It’s just a lot less useful.” 

“And you bite the corner of your lip when you’re not sure about something,” Draco said, then laughed. “Exactly like you’re doing right now.” 

“That’s a start,” she said. “And the last few days have been... easier than I was expecting. But historically, you don’t let anyone in, and you never let your guard down. And I’m not very good at telling anyone I actually care.” 

“I’m not exceptionally good at either of those,” Draco admitted. “And I can’t be someone else. But I could stop trying so hard to keep you out. You could try to be more open.” 

“We drop the act sometimes,” Hermione said. “Mostly when we’re incredibly drunk.” 

“If I told you that no one else could make the claim of having seen me incredibly drunk, would you believe me?” Draco said, wryly. 

“No,” Hermione said. “I know what you and Harry get up to when you put a six month case down.” 

“That doesn’t count,” Draco said. “For one thing, Harry has absolutely no stamina and calls it before I can get remotely drunk, and for another, I’m not trying to get him naked.” 

“It’s probably a good idea not to break all of the Auror fraternization rules with him,” Hermione agreed, laughing. “It’s okay with me, though.”

“Let’s never talk about Potter like that again,” Draco said, but he’d finally relaxed against her. 

“What are you thinking?” Hermione said, after a moment. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I almost never know exactly what I want,” Draco said. “But I think I might want this.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at saying anything definitively?” 

“I’ve heard that before from this woman with an overwhelmingly frustrating habit of seeing right through me,” Draco said. “I want you, Hermione.” 

“You always steal the second half of my creamer before I can throw it away,” Hermione said, finally. 

“Now who’s not saying anything,” Draco said, but he was smiling. 

“I might know you better than I thought I did,” Hermione said. “I might want this too.” 

“We are sort of stuck together until the next lunar eclipse,” Draco said, thoughtfully. “Longer if we don’t want to figure out how to saw our magic in half. I suppose we might as well make the best of it.” 

“There were probably easier ways to get me to date you, you know,” Hermione said. “I’m just saying, the whole magical vampire entrapment thing was a little excessive.” 

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Draco said. He looked happy and a little surprised, as if the conversation hadn’t gone the way he’d been expecting. “Next time I’ll just ask you to get a drink.” 

“Or take me home after the office Christmas party,” Hermione said, laughing. She finally closed the distance between them, kissing him again. 

After a minute, Draco shifted closer, walking her back toward the couch, and she finally drew back. “Interested?” 

“What?” Draco said. “Of course I’m -” 

“I can tell,” Hermione said, laughing. “The teeth are a little bit of a give away.” 

“Oh, damn,” he said, ruefully, starting to step back. “We can call it if you want, I -” 

“We’re not calling it,” Hermione said, unbuttoning her shirt. She slid it off one shoulder. “So get back down here.” 

“You did say yes before,” Draco said, sounding simultaneously tentative and incredibly distracted. 

“I’m also saying yes now,” Hermione said. She laughed. “Before you ask, I’m absolutely willing to put out on the first date, but only as long as you bite me and let me get off on it.” 

“You could probably talk me into it,” Draco said. “But just so you’re clear, I have absolutely no intention of stopping once I start, so you’ll probably have to live with getting off on other things too.” 

“Deal,” Hermione said. 

“Only if you’re sure, though,” Draco said, as she pulled him onto the couch. “About me biting you.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione said, mildly. “Stop talking.” 

“Just checking,” Draco said.

“Stop _talking_ ,” Hermione said, laughing, and dragged him back down.


End file.
